Panther squad
by Setrus
Summary: The clone wars are in full swing, and in a jungle two jedi find themselves working with a squad of less then excited commando's in facing a legendary sith lord...what could go wrong? Horrible summary I know.
1. Chapter 1

The Nu-class attack shuttle visibly shook as it swept low, wings almost touching the top of the trees of the thick jungle as it came around to hover above the grey concrete buildings. Its red and white paint had almost disappeared under the carbon scoring covering it, black smoke rising from somewhere in its rear.

The shuttle shuddered as it evened out, wings folding up, and less than gracefully plopped down on the designated landing pad. Almost instantly the front ramp opened, smoke pouring out of the entrance, along with a host of curses as a white armoured clone pilot ran around within it with a fire extinguisher.

The pair that marched down the ramp were silent though, brown robes pulled close as they marched down.

The one at the front was a blue twi'lek, his green eyes scanning the surroundings with a twinkle of amusement. The one a step behind him was human, a quite short woman whose brown hair had been pulled into quite an elaborate bun behind her head, her blue eyes looked on at the scene before her with disinterest, her tanned face having a slight tint of green to it as she stumbled after the other jedi.

The republic base consisted of over two dozen single-floor rectangular buildings with rounded corners, they were grey, a mix of concrete and steel plates. Most were also pockmarked by carbon scoring, a sure sign that the current peace was an illusion at best. Not that peace meant calm, everywhere they looked they saw bustling activity as clone troopers moved between the buildings, some carrying datapads, others crates of supplies, off in the distance a small platoon sat around a bunch of crates and played dice by the looks of it.

Only one of the many troopers paid them any heed, and he stood in attention a foot away from the ramp. His hair had been dyed stark red, brown eyes following the pair coming to meet him. Dressed in a stark white clone trooper armour the man kept his helmet under his left arm, standing in a hint of attention as he saluted them. "Jedi master Boc Fac, welcome to Dacher 4, otherwise known as Deadlock. How was the ride?"

The twi'lek offered his hand, smiling widely, there was a hint of hesitation before the clone shook the offered hand. "Uneventful until we entered the system, when they said the confederates dominated space around here they weren't kidding."

"I think I'm going to be sick..." The human jedi muttered, a hand going to her stomach as he face turned another shade of green.

"Ah yes, this is my padawan, Weela Mern." The twi'lek gestured towards the woman, patting her shoulder. "I believe the last bit of the journey didn't agree with her stomach." Chuckling the man turned back to the trooper, ignoring the discomfort of his padawan as she sat down on the foot of the ramp. "And you are...?"

"Commander CC-5689 sir, you may call me Juggler." The man pulled his hand back.

"Juggler? Great..." The woman groaned, hands going up to rub her temples. "Bet there's a story there..."

"There is." The commander nodded, he didn't offer to tell it though, making the twi'lek arch an eyebrow.

Clearing his throat Boc Fac looked about the camp. "I'm surprised...there seems to be fewer troopers here than it should."

"Most are out fighting sir." The commander replied, glancing over at the woman as she slowly turned back into a normal colour. "Deadlock keeps most of our troops..."

"Deadlocked, got it." Boc Fac chuckled, quietly noting the way the commander tensed at that. "And where's our escort? Not that I want to leave today...but I would appreciate some introductions."

"The clone commando's are still out fighting sir." The commander saw how twi'lek squinted at him and shrugged. "Panther squad is the only remaining squad in the system sir...you can't expect them to be at your beck and call...sir." Noticing his own tone the commander made an apologising gesture. "It was planned that they would be here to meet you today I admit, but they're late from their last mission."

"They're...not dead...are they?" The woman muttered, grunting as she got up and glanced at her master. "I don't want to fly back already, or worse, work with one of your improvised plans."

Boc laughed, flashing the woman a wide smile. "Why Weela! You hurt me! My plans have always worked out perfectly, and yes, while it often requires some cold nerves and the enduring of the odd disgusting period..."

"Last time I had to dance in that ridiculous outfit!" The woman snapped, apparently the journey having put her in a mood to argue. "I was undignified!"

"It worked didn't it? And no one got hurt..."

"I had a cold for two weeks!"

Clearing his throat the commander grimaced. "While this is extremely important no doubt...I am the commanding officer of the entire northern hemisphere of this planet and have work to do."

Both jedi frowned. The twi'lek cocking his head to the side. "The entire...northern hemisphere? Is that not too much for a single commander?"

"The other commanders were killed, partly the reason I'm wearing standard clone trooper armour." The man looked over the two jedi. "Perhaps you should consider changing too...snipers are rife in these jungles."

"Snipers are no danger to us." Boc looked around himself, noting the slight mist in the distance. "Though I would appreciate advice, jungle planets are new to me...any advice on how to handle it?"

The commander stiffened slight, if in irritation or otherwise was hard to tell. "Get phase 2 trooper boots, even they are worn down quickly in this place, but at least they won't let water in like the leather boots you wear...half our orders for replacement parts are boots."

"Well ain't that encouraging." The woman muttered, having resigned herself to glaring at the surroundings, especially the troopers playing dice over in the distance. "We're stuck in the middle of nowhere and it already seems as if I'm going to get some sort of shit in my clothes."

Boc frowned, shooting his padawan an irritated look even as the commander spoke: "I know the feeling ma'am, it is shared among most troopers here."

"Aha...and why is that commander? And why have you not rectified it? Surely it cannot be good for the morale." Boc asked, the irritated look now turned to the commander.

The clone just shrugged. "I share their sentiment, we are simply here because the confederates has troops here, to lock them down. Heck, this place is not even seen as important enough to warrant any air support. Just some supplies coming in at times to keep us running. We're clones sir, not idiots."

"Hey! That's no way to view your duty!" The woman growled.

"We _do_ our duty, what more can you ask?" The commander glared back at her, making the padawan recoil in surprise. Then he turned a neutral face back to Boc Fac. "I could order them not to speak in such a way sir...but it would be pointless."

"Indeed it would." The twi'lek nodded. "But perhaps trying to raise the morale would help in muting such...talks."

"Sir, that is illogical. We have little-" The commander stopped mid-sentence, head tilting to his side as he pushed a finger into his ear. "Repeat that gate...yes...yes...yes send them my way, I'll handle it." He looked up at them, smiling slightly. "The commando's are at the gate, they'll be with us shortly..."


	2. Chapter 2

Weela Mern was _not_ in the mood to meet more clones today. Not only had they spent a day at the slowest lightspeed possible, she then had to endure a nail-biting two hours in being tossed about in their shuttle while blaster cannons tore through their ship. The smoke had been the last straw...being thrown about in a room filled with smoke had made her so nauseas that she'd been just about ready to throttle her master when he'd asked how she was doing.

And now she was here, on a planet that smelled like a hut's backside and surrounded by clones. Sure, she understood that the clones were the only thing keeping the republic in the war, and that they had been instrumental in keeping many a jedi alive...heck one had saved _her_ before. Despite all that, and Boc Fac's many lectures on them...she still found them creepy. There was just something..._wrong_ about them.

Still, she straightened where she stood, at least she was not nauseas anymore...and making Boc even more irritated with her behaviour than he already was was just foolish. Looking towards the area commander...Juggler of all things...had indicated she forced herself to ignore the sight of clone troopers playing dice. When had the clones gotten names anyway? Didn't anyone find their similar faces scary? Not to mention that they now were supposed to use their names instead of serial numbers...creepy.

"Ah, there they are." Boc Fac smiled, the usual expression of the twi'lek, as he pointed towards the approaching quartet. "Notice the difference with the usual troopers padawan?"

The question was probably rhetoric, it had to be, or perhaps her master had finally lost it?

First of all the four troopers walked in an oddly sloped fashion, their armour somewhat sturdier looking, and all wore green camouflage painted over their armour, paint that seemed oddly...moving? Weela wrinkled her nose as the smell assaulting her. Oh force...that wasn't paint at all! None seemed surprised at the slime covering the troopers though, nor about the foremost of them having a B1 battle droid's head strapped to his left shoulder. Weela grimaced at the sight, those machines were ugly...and this one was rusty with age, making it look all the more menacing.

"They...stink?" Boc shot her an angry look, making Weela shrug. "Sorry, couldn't help myself."

The one with the droid head on his shoulder stepped up to the commander. He still hadn't removed his helmet, none of them had for some reason...? "Mission accomplished commander." The voice was scratchy, as if someone had been choking the clone. "There might still be a droid commando left out there but the others have been disabled, we also retrieved thirty tags." He held out a small leather bag and dropped it into Juggler's hand.

"Good work sergeant, I'll send fresh contingents into the area to secure it against further infiltration." The commander opened the small bag and looked down at the small metal tags within it. "_Very_ good job, might give us some reinforcement."

What _were_ they talking about? From Boc Fac she felt a slight twinge of sadness, the clones were completely neutral though, the commandos seemed tired, though their stances in that stinking armour of theirs showed nothing of it. "Thank you commander, new mission or can we wash off and rest?"

"Actually sergeant...you remember the mission brief I sent you? The jedi are here now." Juggler gestured towards Boc and Weela.

Weela found herself gasping as the four commandos turned to face her, the sudden anger thrown at her surprisingly powerful. "Oh yes, _them_." The sergeant of the squad growled, voice full of scorn. "Permission to go out on another mission this instant commander?"

"Permission denied." Juggled sighed. "And behave."

"Hello." Boc Fac still wore a wide smile, apparently choosing to ignore the blatant show of dislike from the clones. "I am jedi master Boc Fac, this is my padawan Weela Mern. I am afraid I have not been properly briefed on who you are...?"

"RC-1312 sir." Came the dry reply, the clones _still_ hadn't taken their helmets off!

Boc chuckled, running a hand down one of his lekku. "I was more curious about your name."

"I am a clone, I have no name." A growl.

"Come now...surely you have a callsign?" Boc smiled over at the other clone commandos, apparently hoping to win them over, the slightly glowing lenses looking back said nothing however. "All clones have it by now, surely your friends haven't been as boring as to not give you a name?"

The clone sergeant turned his head to look at the others for a moment, could they give each other looks through those buckets? "Fine." The sergeant looked back at Boc. "You may call me Fourth."

"Excellent! Hello Fourth!" Her master pushed his hand forth with a wide smile. That was his style, overwhelm any opposition with so much kindness and politeness that they simply don't know how to dislike you after a while. It was surprisingly effective... "It's a pleasure to meet you!"

The sergeant shrugged, ignoring the offered hand. "When do you wish to leave..._sir_?" There was a hint of irony in his voice at the end. Boc lowered his hand.

"Why you-" Weela forced her mouth to close, feeling Boc shoot her a look of disapproval. Come now...deep breath....calm... "Please address my master with the proper tone of respect."

"No."

"N...no?" Weela blinked.

"You may order me to do so, but until then...no." The sergeant cocked his head to the side, despite the helmet she got the feeling the clone was _daring_ her to order it about...what the hell was wrong with this place!? "Now _sir_, when do you wish to leave?" The clone turned back to look at Boc, Weela frowned, most of the anger seemed to come from the sergeant...though it was enough for all four.

Boc shrugged. "Oh there's no great rush, at least not enough to deprive you and your fine men of some well earned rest." Somehow the man still wore a smile, something Weela had yet to master. "When you've had proper time to rest and prepare I wish to leave as quickly as possible though, if there are no objections."

"None that would be accepted." The sergeant nodded. "Very well, we leave the day after tomorrow at sunrise. Acceptable _sir_?" How could her master just _smile_ at such blatant dislike?

"Quite acceptable Fourth, I look forward to working with you." Boc grinned, apparently set on breaking down the wall the sergeant was putting up. "I would also like to talk with you...perhaps have your help in finding our way around here...?"

"You require a commando as a guide?" The sergeant snorted, then looked over at the other commandos. "Fine...RC-1269!"

"Yes sir?" One of the other commandos stepped forward, though similar to his sergeant in his armour there was no hostility rolling off him, in fact he almost seemed friendly. Like night and day...if he hadn't been a creepy clone Weela could have almost smiled at him.

"You're assigned as these jedis' babysitter! Got it!?" _Babysitter!?_

"Crystal sir."

"Good." The sergeant turned to look at the jedi. "Anything else _sir_?"

"Not at all, please, go enjoy your free time." Boc bowed slightly, drawing a small chuckle from one of the commando's even as the sergeant snorted.

"Good, Lip, you stay with the jedi." The sergeant turned, marching away with two of the others in tow even as he said. "At ease."

The commando still standing with them finally pulled his helmet off, revealing the classic clone face, though his hair was surprising long and dyed in a stark purple shade....and he sported a goofy smile that seemed so out of place Weela had to give him a second look. "Hi there, I'm RC-1269, or Lip if you prefer it."

Weela sighed, she hated clones...whenever you thought you had them pinned they surprised you...Boc seemed delighted however: "Nice meeting you Lip, how about giving us the grand tour?"

"Sure thing sir." The clone smiled, genuinely even.

Oh _great_...

"Now this is the armoury, quite boring if you're not..."


	3. Chapter 3

"And this is the command centre." Lip explained with a wide gesture.

Weela forced herself not to groan. Never mind that the base was built according to a standard plan that she'd seen a hundred times by now, the door to the place was marked 'HQ' and the interior was filled with electronic maps! Did the clone expect her to believe it was the lavatories or something?

A quick glance to her left told her her master still wore that polite smile of his, meaning that interrupting the waste of time would be foolish. He probably intended to teach her something again, though of course he didn't say what...as always Weela found herself suppressing a wave of irritation. That was his way of teaching, she just had to accept it and wait for the lesson to hit her, _if_ it did...

Lip pointed over to one of the many computers lining the wall of the building, or more specifically the trooper standing by it, back bent as he worked over some gauges. "And that's CC-7951, or Ned, he's our advisor." At the sound of his name the clone turned. As everyone in the room he wore the stark white armour of a clone trooper, even the helmet was on. How the troopers told each other apart in those things without force powers was beyond her...but they apparently did.

"Lip, all is well I trust?" The clone inclined his head. "And this must be Boc Fac and Weela Mern, it's an honour to meet jedi, though surprising considering where we are." He spoke in the usual rough clone voice, perhaps enunciating his words a little clearer, as if afraid his words wouldn't be received, no doubt a result of using the radio too much.

Heh, at least this one acted properly. Next to her Boc bowed slightly, apparently set on giving a good impression in this less than welcoming place, Weela couldn't bring herself to following his example though. They were clones dammit! "Ned, good to meet you, I trust you will aid us during our mission."

"Ye-"

"Are you kidding?" Lip chuckled as he interrupted the other clone, could they glare though those visors? "Ned here is the best advisor I've ever had, never lets you down when you need a little help. Though I wouldn't mind him grabbing a blaster and physically _helping_ us."

"Then who would pull your asses out of the fire?" Ned asked, folding his arms in front of him. "Now if there's nothing else I am fine-tuning the equipment from the last mission. In fact I'd like Fourth to turn in his communicator, a stray sniper shot has frazzled it too much for my liking."

"I'll tell him." Lip sighed, turning to the two jedi. "Have to excuse Ned, he's a boring guy."

"Hey!"

"You must excuse me." Boc inclined his head slightly. "I need to speak with Ned here about the mission we were sent to execute, but Weela would be pleased to continue the tour." He shot her a look that brook no arguing. "Right padawan?"

Realising that any protest would probably mean a harsher lecture then the one she was already in for Weela bowed her head. "Of course master, Lip, please lead me on." Her master probably had some damn plan too...wanted her to report what she found out or something. Was that part of him teaching her? Or was it simply a wish to learn more before the mission ahead? Maybe both?

Or maybe she was just over thinking the whole thing? Lip seemed not to see any hidden agenda in the whole thing though, cheerfully saluting. "Yes sir, this way ma'am." Ma'am...she knew it was automatic, it was annoying though, damn clones... She followed the clone out into the sunlight, struggling not to stand downwind of him. Force...why wasn't anyone else being bothered by the smell of rot coming off him!? Was it just her still being grumpy or something? Or maybe the others had lost all ability to smell after a year stuck in this place...

Ignoring the glances of a few nearby clones, no doubt surprised at seeing anything but their own kind, she followed Lip towards what looked to be the mess hall. Why he would wish to put his fellow clones through the horror of eating and smelling him at the same time was beyond her. But the order had been for a full tour...perhaps he had no choice? Ugh, one never knew with these things. "So...Ned? Why that name?"

Weela didn't _really_ care, but small talk would probably distract her from the lousy day. Lip chuckled though, apparently delighted by the question. "Oh we saved a couple of civilians from a downed transport a good while ago, they hung out in our barrack for quite a while, apparently they thought CC-7951 as a 'Ned'."

"A Ned?" Weela arched an eyebrow.

"Yeah, they always found him using his downtime reading and working by the computer funny...called him a 'Ned', so that's how he got the name." Lip shrugged. "Still don't know what a Ned is...though I suspect it's some sort of bat, or a rodent at least."

Weela couldn't help herself, she laughed. "I think you mean they found him to be a nerd, you know, sort of like a narrow-minded geek."

"You mean we got his name wrong?" Lip looked at her blankly, then cracked a wide grin. "Can't wait until I tell him _that_! Wonder what he'll give me not to reveal it?"

"Beats me." Weela answered, stopping in her track she frowned at the sight of half a dozen clone troopers lying around some scattered boxes, a slight snoring escaping their prone bodies. Behind her Lip chuckled. "Erm...rather then ask why these guys are sleeping here instead of in their beds...what's with Lip?"

"They are taking a break from their work shift." The clone smiled. "As for my name...haven't you noticed I've been talking a lot? Well at least more then necessary, it's sort of unique for a trooper like me. Well I guess the famous Delta squad talks a lot too judging by their video logs...but still."

Not wanting to show she didn't actually know of these 'famous' clones...she found the term a little odd for something like them actually...Weela kept a smile up while asking: "Ah, what are the other guys names then? The ones in your pod I mean?"

"Well...it feels sort of wrong calling it my pod since all but Cutter is a replacement in the pod." Lip looked a little nervous for a moment. Replacement...as in losses? Should she apologise or something? This was easier with _normal_ people... "But you got RC-1587, also known as Wrench."

Ah, better, quickly move to a safer subject... "Wrench eh? Bet he's a good mechanic?"

"Well...yes." Lip admitted, grimacing slightly. "Knows it too if you know what I mean. But the funny thing is that he got it from trying to brag when he first got here...and forgetting the name of the tool!" They shared a small laugh. "Never did live that down...poor sod."

"Ah, and...?"

"Cutter? He's really RC-1180...his name is easy. He's been here the longest of us all, and if you'd seen his video logs you would know why he got the name. That vibroknife of his has killed a small army by now." Lip laughed, apparently finding something amusing with it.

Weela just frowned. "Guess all names can't have a funny story, what about Fourth?"

"Erm..." Lip scratched his head, grimacing. "I don't think you'll like it...but if you want I guess I must answer." Force, what was _with_ these clones!? Angry but friendly, obedient but complaining, taking their own initiative and then saying they had no choice in the matter...odd creatures.

"Go on." Weela found her shoulders tensing up, the mere thought of that disrespectful cretin irking her, and there was something in Lip's tone...

The clone grimaced, but at least he spoke: "We both joined Panther squad at the same time as replacement. While I simply told them my name and designation he asked how many sergeants the squad had had before him..."

"You can't be..."

Lip nodded, not smiling anymore. "Yep, so now he's Fourth...no idea what his name was before that." He shrugged. "Meh, he's a good sergeant though, don't you worry, he'll get you wherever you want."

Weela frowned. "If he doesn't kill me first."

Lip actually had the audacity to look shocked. "What!? Excuse me ma'am but that's a stupid thing to even hint at! We're clone troopers, our programming would _never_ allow us to hurt you."

_Programming_...as if they were droids. Did _no_ _one_ but her find that creepy!? Having an army that essentially looked and acted alike...just like droids...but _look_ human...that was creepy! It was unnatural, especially as she felt their emotions, yet found herself doubting that they really were _there_, they seemed so warped...different from that of a _normal_ human.

Who's idea had it been to create a tool with emotions anyway?

"Yeah, I bet you are." She grimaced, realising her tone wasn't very jedi-like. "Erm, sorry, a little tired..." Great, now she was apologising to a product. "...actually I'd like to freshen up and rest, bet you're tired too. So where do me and my master sleep?"

"You are in luck." The clone smiled, apparently not having caught her less than polite tone. "With our losses we've managed to move things around a little...both you and your master has a whole barrack for yourselves." He pointed towards one of the larger buildings. "Just don't rifle through the lockers there, some of the dead people's possessions have yet to be moved to the supply sheds."

Weela nodded even as she forced herself not to snort. _People_...that's a laugh.


	4. Chapter 4

Dabbing some water out of his hair Lip walked out of the shower, happy to finally be clean and naked, so different from the sweat, blood and usual encumbrance of his armour.

Outside he found the other three busy doing maintenance to their gear, all shooting him a quick nod before returning to the work. Lip smiled. Wrench and Cutter wore the classic look of clone soldiers, brown hair cut short, brown eyes, sharp features and clean shaves. Lip would have looked just like them if he hadn't let his hair grow a little and dye it purple. Of course, he still had the same face, but all of them were unique in one way or another, Wrench had that miniscule scar over his eyebrow, Cutter had a chipped tooth...

There were also the easier ways to tell them apart, the way Wrench always leant back a little whatever he did...and how Cutter slouched, as if halfway into a combat stance. Still, it was nice to stand out a little, to be an individual, even if it was just an illusion.

Of course Fourth had no problem with that. First of all he was bald, the many scars criss-crossing his head apparently enough to stop any further growth of it since Lip had never seen him shave it. His skin was patchy at best, pale burn marks spread across his head, as if he had caught a flurry of blaster shots with it. It wasn't unusual for clone troopers to sport scars of course...but Fourth had somehow managed to gather enough for a platoon. The only thing still showing that he was a clone was the features that hadn't been ruined by scars and burns...and the usual brown eyes.

Eyes glaring at him. Uh oh... "Report."

Keeping the towel around his neck Lip widened his stance and put his hands behind his back. It felt silly doing it in the nude...but Fourth had never much cared about his comfort. "Not much to tell really sir, that twi'lek went to talk to Ned, who by the way-"

"I said report, not gossip." Fourth growled, scowling at him.

"Erm, right..." Lip mentally slapped himself, such stuff was for Cutter, not _Mr tough_. "Well as I said Ned is going through the mission with Boc Fac. I guided the padawan a little further but she was too tired to continue, asked me about our names though."

Fourth squinted at him, muscles tensing under the tight red uniform he wore. Aw, not again!

Wrench acted quicker though. "Lazy ass jedi, a small combat drop and they're exhausted? What's up with that?"

"You're not that quick on your feet after that either." Cutter muttered, his hands busy rubbing down a now clean suit of armour. The thing was chipped and scorched at places, as well as the shoulders plates being painted in an all too familiar shade of green. "And it's a reasonable question."

At least that seemed to soothe Fourth down a little, though he was still scowling at Lip. Wrench snorted: "Sure it is, if one cares, jedis don't, not really." He made a great show out of slamming a clip into his DC-17, eyeing the mechanism with a scowl. "Besides, jedi means trouble."

Fourth grunted in agreement even as Lip took the opportunity to move to his locker and retrieve an uniform, his movement mechanical as he pulled it on. He shot the barrack a sad look. It really was depressing, _twenty_ beds stretched out before them in two rows with a small path between them...but there were _only_ four inhabitants left, making for an eerie atmosphere at times. He missed the others...

"Have you checked the mission brief yet sarge?" He finally asked, unable to conceal his curiosity. Not that he wanted to show it too much...he moved for his now washed armour, giving his purple shoulder plates a a playful punch. "Oh geez...there's sludge in the crevices between the plates and undersuit! What the hell Cutter!?"

"Hey, you asked me to wash it, not clean it, it's your own armour you know." The man muttered in reply, smiling ever so slightly as he put his now pristine armour aside and moved for his gun, the thing still covered in enough sludge to make the armoury master get a stroke.

Fourth grunted as he checked his own armour with small efficient moves, as always making sure the strap around that droid-head he carried around was secured against the left shoulder plate. "I skimmed over the briefing, haven't had time to read through it properly though." The sergeant grimaced into the air, hands tightening around the strap until the leather creaked.

"And?" Lip prodded, testing his luck.

For a moment it seemed as if Fourth wouldn't answer, or hit Lip...then he simply shrugged. "Standard jedi bull." He rolled his eyes, something he seldom did. "Capture mission." He grunted, pulling the leather a little tauter than necessary. "Fate of the galaxy, horrible odds...standard idiocy."

Wrench groaned. "Capture? Anyone worthy of capture is in the doid bases, and we can't get in there." He shook his head. "Why don't they just bring in a fleet and bomb the crap out of the pinpointed base? Why capture of all things?"

"Like they would bring a fleet here." Fourth growled, bitter as ever. "And jedi don't _do_ killing." He snorted.

"That's what they _say_." Wrench muttered while tossing himself backwards, gently landing on his bed with his hands behind his head. "It doesn't seem to work that often though, shame that Anakin kid isn't here, I hear he's a little more logical about things. Well...for a jedi."

"Hey ease up, they haven't done anything to earn our hostility yet." Lip tried, a little annoyed with how things were going. "You guys are too worried."

"_Yet_ being the operative word." Wrench replied, grimacing at the roof.

Satisfied with his armour Fourth put it aside and went to check his sidearm, the DC-15 pistol had taken quite a kick from a droid commando and would probably have to be exchanged. None in Panther squad really wanted to exchange their weapons though, since all the replacement guns for them had been owned by a dead commando...it was like grave robbing. Fourth carefully pushed a broken piece at the back of it back into place and retrieved a small blowtorch to put it back into place. "You have long term memory loss Lip, we don't expect you to understand."

Lip bit his lip, forcing himself not to say anything he'd regret. It was true after all, he didn't even remember his old pod, they had died and he had lost all memory of them...it dishonoured him. Yet he was comfortable with it, seeing how bitter his squad mates were he couldn't help but wonder if losing his memory of his old brothers might have been for the best. Still, it created a distance between him and the others. "They won't get us killed guys, jedi care about all life, you know that."

Wrench shook his head, he was still looking at the roof however. "Wow you're naïve. The jedi cares for all life, unless another life is more important, such as that of a jedi or friend...or if sacrificing a life will go for some greater purpose. Sacrifice for something greater is _noble_ you understand..." He grimaced. "...and also _easy_ if your sacrificing expendables like us."

"I thought we were willing to die for the republic here?" Lip raised an eyebrow and pulled out some sort of weed that had hid itself under his breastplate, he dropped it into a trash can. "Or should I report us as faulty?" That got a chuckle out of all but Fourth.

Fourth glared at him, making him swallow. "A sacrifice for the republic is a great thing, a sacrifice for some jedi nonsense is a useless death, and guess what these jedi will do? I bet we'll fail even...useless monks."

Sighing Lip let it go, knowing he couldn't win the argument. "Who are we supposed to capture anyway?"

Fourth shrugged. "Some sith...count something...who cares? It's not that we'll get close."

"Hey! I can slice through their security consoles!" Lip grinned. "If you guys can keep the droids away I can get us in, or are you saying we're not competent enough to infiltrate a little droid base now all of a sudden?"

Wrench chuckled. "Easy now, we're not worried about getting in, we're worried about getting _out_. Heck, you've ever tried bringing a captive out of a hostile base?"

"Erm...no." Lip admitted, grimacing as something green and sticky dribbled over his hand. It even stung a little...oh great another of those leeches! Pulling it off he threw it too into the trash can and grimacing. "Blasted...anyone got some bacta for a small infection?" He nodded to Wrench as the man tossed him a small pack of bacta.

"How do we even capture a sith?" Cutter muttered, one eyed close as he checked the sniper attachment to his rifle.

Fourth chuckled, an angry growl of a sound. "Bet the jedi will say that they'll handle that..."


	5. Chapter 5

To be one of two people in a barrack that was obviously meant to contain eighty people was a little eerie. Forcing herself not to look at the lockers that according to Lip still contained the possessions of dead clones she sat cross-legged on the floor, right at the foot of one of the beds she found slightly less creepy than the lockers next to them.

At least the place was well lit by the light strips built into the corners of the ceiling, lights that effectively eliminated all shadows. Further off she could see the door that lead to the frustratingly open bathrooms where you practically had the shower right next to the toilets, making privacy impossible. Still, with only the two of them there it would be no problem.

Opposite her, at the foot of the bed by the opposite wall, Boc Fac sat, the embodiment of calm. Even after having given her one of his stern talking to and then received her less than great report on what she'd learnt about their clones he looked as if nothing had happened, actually he was smiling slightly. As always...force it was frustrating!

Taking a deep breath Weela calmed herself, the strain of her legs telling her that she was tensing up by her thoughts, it would do no good if she was trying to centre herself...hell it would be awkward if she had to ask Boc to help her get up...again! At times she wondered why he had chosen her as padawan...

"This planet is rife with life." Boc suddenly muttered, his eyes still closed.

What did he mean by that? Did he wish her to...oh to hell with it. Closing her eyes Weela stretched out her senses, forcing herself not to think about how that might advertise her presence, Boc wasn't worried about it after all...she grimaced at what she found. "And death."

"The glass is always half empty with you isn't it?" Her master chuckled. "Is not death and life simply two sides of the same coin?"

Ugh, not this again. "Master, I don't believe we are welcome here."

"Oh?" Again, a small chuckle. "Did you need your powers to tell that or were the glares searing through those visors enough of a hint?"

At times Boc wanted her to answer the oddest of questions, this was probably not one of those times though... "I just find it worrying that _clones_ aren't welcoming us honestly, they aren't...predictable as they should."

"Clones are not droids." Boc replied, as she knew he would. "Have you not seen that on many of the ships and planets we've been on that the clones act differently? They have their own little sub-cultures and even philosophies...I actually find it quite fascinating, like an experiment in social sciences."

"I suppose." Weela disagreed, but knew better than to voice her opinion on that. "But these ones are hostile master, it could jeopardise the mission or even our lives. Even if they as Lip said are _programmed_..." She grimaced. "...to follow our orders their reluctance in the manner might be a hidden danger. I just don't see how we're supposed to work with them."

"I would not worry about that."

"With all due respect master...we don't really need the commando's, they would be no help in capturing count Dooku anyway."

"That is true, we are the ones who will have to handle Dooku, but how would we get there?" Weela frowned, finding the question a little odd, were they not jedi? Was he worried about a little jungle? "Stealth is important here my padawan, that is why I will teach you to hide your presence in the force, so that Dooku won't notice our approach. However, you will find the concentration needed to uphold such a shield draining at best...and our powers will be horrible weakened, at the point of making simple blaster deflection difficult."

"I see...we will need the escort since we cannot resort to our powers to push forth..." Weela frowned, trying to come up with some way of arguing her point. "But we both have training in survival master...surely even without our powers we could push through on our own?"

Boc laughed. "I thought you'd realise by now that there is an immense gap between theoretical knowledge and practical experience. These clones have fought here for ages, they know every trick, and will be able to fight stealthily in a way we cannot without alerting our target of our presence."

"You make it sound as if they're better then us."

Displeasure hit her, making Weela regret her choice of words. Boc's voice was still calm though. "No one is better than another padawan, shame on you. But in a strict military sense I suppose...you could say we have different uses. I assure you, the commando's will show themselves highly useful."

"My apologies master." Weela opened her eyes, seeing Boc look at her with a slight frown. "I know I may sometimes be...somewhat crass." The frown smoothed. "Especially around the clones, they....worry me, I don't know why. It feels as if there's something wrong with them...or...I don't know. I don't like them."

"Explain." Uh oh...Boc talking in short sentences, bad...

Still, one was supposed to be honest with their master, and Weela trusted him. "It's just...they're a product master, yet they're people...yet they have programming...yet they express and have feelings...as warped as they might be." Weela made a gesture of frustration. "It's contradictory!"

"Not really." Boc shrugged, watching Weela with compassionate eyes as she struggled for words. "The clones are people Weela, you must never doubt this."

She bowed her head, cheeks burning with shame as she realised what she'd implicated, well she really didn't think of clones as people...she didn't like where that lead. "I...know master, my apologies." She forced herself to give voice to her doubts: "Master...if they indeed are people...why do we have them as our army? Is that not slavery? And if so...why not go with droids as the confederates in that case?"

"Ah, you've been thinking." Boc nodded, smiling slightly. "For one I understand that we didn't have much choice in the matter..."

"I thought you said one always had a choice."

"Oh hush." He chuckled. "What I'm trying to say is that clones are indeed alive, and feel the pain of the war like anyone else, which we are putting them through." Weela bit her lip, forcing herself not to speak up as she waited for him to continue. "They suffer along with us. This makes us aware of the price of war, to the horrors of the battle. Would you prefer to have droids in the army? No suffering until the army reaches the cities and civilians? I see the use of clones as a reminder, so that the consequences of our actions and orders are felt at every corner, so as not to distance ourselves from the conflict."

"I...see." Weela frowned, pondering his words. She understood...yet it sat wrong with her for some reason. "And here I thought we were supposed to distance ourself from the present...look to the future."

"But not at the expense of the moment, nor the suffering of others."

"Okay...and the slavery part?"

Boc hesitated, almost looking pained by the question. "Sometimes...practicality wins out over ethics. But remember, without the war they would not even have been born...and sacrifice for a good cause is not a bad end for a life."

"Perhaps but...the sacrifice is not chosen by them, it is thrust upon them." Weela grimaced. Not really sure why she was arguing for the clones sake of all things. Perhaps merely out of a wish to 'win' over master Boc for once? "Even if their end is noble...it's not noble of us to force it upon them without a choice. Am I making sense?"

"Unfortunately yes." Boc's shoulders dropped and he looked away. "And I cannot give you a satisfactory answer except the one already given, sometimes one needs to be practical."

"That...does not sit right with me master."

"Neither me, but we must do what is needed to be done." Boc grimaced, as if his own words had a bad taste to them.

"If you say so master..."


	6. Chapter 6

"This must be the base they're referring to, in sector 7B." The clone advisor Ned pointed towards a point on the map that depicted the same forest landscape the entire map showed, telling Weela nothing. Her master nodded though, apparently agreeing. "It's one of the largest droid bases in the area sir, responsible for much of the air forces harassing our forces."

Fourth grunted something unintelligible, the clone was in full armour except for the helmet, which she seriously wished the clone would put on since the face of the clone was such a fearsome depiction of the battles the clone had suffered through...and more specifically the constant scowl Fourth wore was wearing her thin. "Will be hard to find a single man in that mess." Was that..._satisfaction_ in Fourth's voice?

The sound of a laugh got her to look away though, finding a far nicer sight outside the building they were in. Outside the other three commandos were in their dress uniforms, their clothes mostly brown instead of red due to the mud stuck to them. The clones had placed a few crates around their little 'plaground', forming a rough circle.

As she watched one...Wrench or Cutter she wasn't sure...sat on a crate, laughing as the clone watched the other two circle one another, rubber knives in their hands.

She didn't know what to think of it, in a way it was creepy to see them 'play' while obviously training in killing...but it was also sort of cute. Which immediately made it creepy again since clones playing just seemed..._unnatural_.

"Worry not, we will find him." Boc Fac replied, confident as he was, Weela wasn't all that worried about that part either, when they found him however... Fourth just snorted however, showing what the clone thought of such statements.

With a half roar half laugh Lip launched himself at his opponent, the clone's knife tossed aside for some strange reason. Weela watched in confusion as the other clone for some reason didn't simply stab the charging opponent, nor step aside, instead simply taking the charge in the stomach, sending them both tumbling into the mud.

Weela raised an eyebrow, struggling with her amusement. Clones acting like children! She should be furious with them! Or not care...blast these clones were confusing!

"Entrance will be difficult though." The advisor clone replied, even with the helmet on Weela was sure Ned was frowning.

"I'm sure it will, that's why we want the help of the best." Boc Fac replied, drawing another snort from Fourth. "Padawan Weela..." She could sense the feather touch through the force, her master pushing her towards the door, towards the other clones. "...would you?"

She bowed her head, understanding. "Yes master." Squaring her shoulders she moved towards the other clones, letting her master plan the mission as she went to confront her problems. Force she hated being a jedi at time...

By now the other clone was resting a knee on Lip's chest, making the clone gasp for breath. The one on the crate laughed, slapping his thigh. "That's it! Show him Cutter!"

"Surrender." The clone that apparently was Cutter growled, how did they tell each other apart!?

Lip actually managed a weak laugh with whatever little air he had left. "Stupid...fool!" Then the clone's hand shot up.

Weela found her eyes bulging as Cutter fell forward, landing face first into the mud while clutching his crotch, muttered curses escaping him. The one on the crates laughed even harder, to the point of crying, as Lip sat up, gasping for breath. "Lip you wonderful jerk...you cheated!"

"I thought Fourth said there was no rules..." Lip replied with a wry grin, a grin that disappeared when the prone clone behind him tossed a handful of mud into the back of his skull. Then the grin returned. "Oh you son of a sith!" Whirling about he replied the thrown mud with a projectile of his own, missing Cutter with several feet.

"That's a funny thing to say." The clone remarked, swiftly getting on his feet and rushing towards Lip, as did Wrench.

Leaning against a crate Weela cringed at the sight of Lip being thrown face first into the mud, his arms pinned behind him by his two 'brothers' as they with wide grins tried to drown him. "Surrender now!" Wrench laughed, kicking his brother in the ankle. "Or we could pin your legs too...? Maybe we'll tie you up and give you over to the fifty-thirds?"

"Damn you two!" Lip managed, struggling a little, which earned him another face full of mud. "Fine! Fine I surrender!"

The two clones stepped away, letting Lip roll over unto his back as they all laughed. Weela too to her surprise.

Instantly the three clones fell silent, all eyes drawn to her...she fell silent as well, suddenly nervous.

"Erm...I think you've ruined your uniforms." She said, wincing at her meek voice.

The three clones shared a look, then shrugged as Lip said: "We always do."

"Oh really? Maybe I should order you guys to wear them for the rest of the day?" Weela smirked at the way the three clones flinched at that. "To teach you some manners of course, how do you think it would look if you're forced to go in a parade in _that_?" She pointed at the uniforms, not only dirty but also torn by now.

The three clones shared another look, this time an amused one.

Persevering Weela shrugged. "I mean, I heard that soldiers likes girls...and girls uniforms...clean uniforms. Or perhaps you'd like to hit on a of the swamp creatures here? I'm sure _they'll_ find your choice of clothing _perfect_..."

That got an effect. Lip laughed while Wrench chuckled, the one named Cutter settled for a smirk. _Whew_...

"What? You don't think I look dashing?" Lip grinned as he puffed his chest, putting up a heroic stance that might have looked dashing if it wasn't for the ironic smirk and the way his pockets was torn open and his entire face covered in dark mud. "I'm the great swamp commando after all."

Weela laughed. "Well...perhaps you could charm a trandoshan...maybe."

"Oh? He haven't told you about our pirate campaign?" Wrench chuckled as Lip got an embarrassed look on his face. "He kissed one of those lizards!"

"No way!?" Weela laughed, trying to imagine how that would even _work_. Cutter smirked as well, apparently the greatest show of amusement he was allowed or something... "Have you been lying about your choice of name Lip?"

"Hey! First of all, the thing kissed me! Second of all, the thing did it to save its sorry skin!" He grimaced, apparently remembering the taste. "Just hope it was a girl..."

"Yes, because that makes it _so_ much better." Wrench chuckled as he crossed his arms, shooting Lip a smirk. "Because then the only..._thing_ you've ever kissed...was a _girl_...because you like _shooting_ girls after kissing them? Because that's what I heard happened."

Weela grimaced, watching as Lip visibly struggled under the scrutiny of the others. "Well...erm...that is...erm...I _stabbed_...her?" He sighed, a slight flush creeping up his cheeks. "Erm...that's not better is it? Erm...oh shut up!" He took a step back and dramatically turned his back to the others, suddenly reminding her of a sulking child.

The others shared a laugh at his expense even as Weela realised what she had begun to think of them as persons rather than clones. All it had taken was a silly game and actually joking with them....Weela suddenly felt a little ashamed. She didn't let it show though. "Aww, calm down Lip, I'm sure the trandoshan loved that shared moment of love."

"Love? _Love_!?" Lip spluttered, making the others smirk. "Blast I hate you people..." He kicked at the dirt, pouting.

Weela shook her head. "Oh come now, just because you are a bit on the freaky side is no reason to be rude."

"She's got a point." Wrench chuckled, glancing at Cutter who simply shrugged. "By the way little padawan, if you wish you could show us some of...ah..." He suddenly became very interested in his feet, making Weela frown, Lip was also looking at his feet...the only one looking at her was Cutter. Well, not really _at_ her but rather...

Feeling a chill creeping up her spine Weela turned...and found herself looking up at an angry looking Fourth, the man glaring down at her as if she was some annoying little insect. Jeez the clones were tall when one stood right next to them...

"Why are you distracting my brothers in their training?" The anger emanating from him seemed to envelope her too...like a cloud of the dark side that was about to swallow her whole.

"Erm...well..." Weela swallowed, well aware that it showed all too well. "They weren't really training...well...not in the sense that it-"

Somehow Fourth managed to get closer, his chipped chest plate almost hitting her in the face. "I don't want you distracting my troopers." The anger...it was suffocating...choking her.

"Sir she was only-"

"Silence Lip!" Fourth barked, making Weela flinch despite her efforts to stay calm, his gaze quickly returned to her, freezing her in place. "Stay. Away. From. My. Men."

"W...why?" Weela stuttered, surprised that she could even speak anymore, or that any air still remained in her lungs.

Somehow Fourth's gaze got harder, the cloud of the dark side grasped her lungs, making her gasp in sudden pain. "Because I care about them, that's why. Now bugger off."

"H...hey you can't-"

"Move!"

Weela found herself scuttling off, despite her pride, despite other clones laughing at the site of a jedi running away...she ran.


	7. Chapter 7

Fourth was aware that he had lost some points with the rest of his squad scaring the jedi-child away, but it couldn't be helped. The jedi had an amazing talent for forming bonds to their troops...which he found very strange since they weren't supposed to form attachment, then again they probably didn't count clones as people to form attachments _to_...Fourth snorted at the thought.

And of course once the jedi did that the jedi managed to get the clone killed by doing some stupid noble sacrifice due to the jedi doing some great enterprise that often resulted in guaranteed casualties...none jedi if they couldn't help it of course.

Still, he wasn't worried about the irritation he had created within the squad, even _if_ they weren't right now gathering for the briefing that would show his point they knew him too well not to question his decisions.

Huddling up around the holographic map the clones were all in their armour, helmets on. There was no reason for it really, but it had become a tradition, an almost religious action performed to ascertain their success in the mission ahead of them. This time they would really need it...

To his right, in one of the short ends of the large table that was the holographic map Wrench stood. His armour surprisingly pristine, even bereft of any choice colours on the shoulder pads, the man always changed any chipped part...which was his own little tradition. Fourth was sure the man was wearing a distant look under his faceplate.

Opposite him Lip and Cutter stood side by side. Cutter's green shoulder pads was the only thing immediately differing him from Lip's purple, though if he'd wanted to Fourth could count their heavily scarred armour's, using their old damages to tell them apart. Under their helmets Lip probably looked smug while Cutter scowled at the map...Fourth grimaced, he almost loved this squad as much as his 'true' pod-mates.

The grimace got worse, sadness gripping his heart for a brief moment...before he forcefully pushed it aside.

Ned was to his left, the clone advisor leaning unto the table with one hand as the other pointed at the little glowing dot in the middle of the map. "There the target base is, in the south-central area of sector B7. Atop mountain top T1B687."

The silence was deafening.

Realising none would say anything Ned continued. "As you are all aware of 7B is deep in enemy territory, as such the covert insertion will be done with minimum obstructive gear, small packs boys."

"Small packs? And what when we run out of explosives to blow doors? Or food when we're forced to take a detour?" Wrench asked, his tone close to whining.

"We improvise." Fourth growled back, silencing any further protests. "Continue advisor."

"As pointed out equipment will be an issue, as such there is a need for a straight path and a minimum of enemy engagements." Ned gestured for the area north of the small dot on the map. "As such you will need to move at maximum stealth through this valley, sniper's trench."

Lip flinched, fingers now drumming the table. "Maximum stealth? With unaccustomed jedi? Through _sniper's trench_?"

Ned shrugged. "Yes."

"Permission to speak freely." Wrench growled, head turning to Fourth.

Despite his better judgement Fourth nodded. "Go ahead."

"That's pretty fucking stupid."

Lip chuckled, giving his squad mate a small push. "Language mate! What are you? A trandoshan?"

"You don't really want to go there? Do you?" Was the reply, eliciting a slight chuckle from all assembled.

Forcing himself to focus Fourth spoke, knowing the squad didn't really want to hear anything more, but they _needed_ to, if nothing else so they could understand the seriousness of the situation and properly prepare their minds. "Men, mission, attention."

"Yes sir." The other three intoned, turning to look at the advisor, probably in apprehension.

"Thank you sir." Ned offered the sergeant a curt nod. "Now, as mentioned the base is atop mountain T1B687." He pressed a button and the hologram changed from a map to a red three-dimensional picture of the base. It resembled a spider carrying three large boxes on its back. "The topmost area is atop the mountain and is mostly three large hangars containing roughly fifty-six percent of their air forces in the area." There was a grumble all around the table, they had all learnt to hate the carpet bombing of their foes long ago...

Lip motioned for the three boxes atop the 'spider'. "And we'll...?"

"You will not enter through it however." Ned interrupted, sensing the question. "The top is too far up to reach in a satisfactory way, especially with the large sensor presence around the area...entering there will lead to detection and annihilation." He instead pointed at the 'feet' of the 'spider'. "You will enter through one of these shafts, they are used for dispersal of ground forces and various special missions."

"More troops than the hangars?" Cutter grunted, voice neutral, which meant he was apprehensive, at best.

Ned hesitated for a moment. "We don't know." He tilted his head to the side. "It all depends on their mission-schedule and their interior guard detail, we have no information on that. We _do_ know that it almost bereft of sensors and mines due to the traffic."

"Well that's _great_." Lip grumbled. "No good Intel, only that there's less sensors due to enemy _traffic_. If a spider droid pops up I'm _not_ doing the distraction. How will we enter silently while an army is waiting in the corridors and elevators?"

"Improvise." Ned grunted.

"_Improvise_!?" Wrench and Lip cried out. The first shaking his head furiously. "How did this even get cleared!?"

"Jedi magics." Fourth replied, keeping his voice as neutral as he could considering his opinion on the matter, he would not have the jedi take the squad away from him due to him being _uncooperative_, no coming suffering could compare to that. "Please continue Ned."

"When you've located a suitable shaft and sneaked your way into the facility comes the hard part." Someone muttered a curse under his breath at Ned's words. "Locating count Dooku within the facility..." He gestured at the 'body' of the 'spider'. "...will not be easy, the jedi believe he will most likely be in the meditation lounge here...or their command centre here." He indicated the two spots, too far into the facility for anyone's liking. "And while I agree that there is a certain probability of that...there is a risk he's somewhere else, meaning a search is needed."

"Locating a lone individual in such a large place would require a heavy security breach in their computers." Lip muttered, his cheery disposition having evaporated long ago. "The risk of detection in a breach bigger than a door slice and sensor deactivation would be _very_ high...and within that base..." He let the sentence go unfinished.

"At which point you must move quickly." Ned snapped. "We believe that when Dooku is captured you could force yourself out of the facility by keeping him at blaster or lightsaber point."

Lip snorted, he was probably rolling his eyes as well. "Yes, because the seps are _known_ for their negotiating skills."

"And if the jedi do not succeed in capturing Dooku?" Cutter asked, voice low.

Ned raised a hand, apparently about to answer, then he lowered it. "We...have no containment plan."

"Because there is no viable containment plan." Fourth cut in, silencing the brewing protests. "Therefore we must succeed with primary objective, at all costs, understand?"

All around the table heads were bowed in affirmations, all of them understanding what he was asking of them. And due to a jedi no less...Fourth felt disgust swell up within him. Damn politics...damn jedi getting their high rank based on nothing but some strange power no one seemed to understand. Damn the war...

"Once you've captured the sith..." Ned continued, choosing to ignore the growing consternation among the men. "...you will hold him at weapon-point and leave the enemy base. He will be incapacitated and you will move quickly to escape any enemy ambush or rescue operation, at sniper's trench you can call for backup if needed, a task force will be ready to intercept you."

Wrench shook his head, hands leaning on the table. "That is probably the most stupid plan I've _ever_ heard, and I've run sniping missions _on_ a separatist cruiser's _hull_!"

"You haven't told me about that!" Lip pipped in, sounding happy all of a sudden. "That sound _awesome_!"

"Maybe he can tell you before we die." Cutter grumbled, arms crossed in front of him.

"We are _not_ dying on this mission men." Fourth growled back, fists pounding into the table, making them flinch, he glared at them through his visor, knowing they would be aware of it. "Not for _them_!" He raised one of the fists, holding it out over the table. "Do you _hear_ me brothers!?"

The others slammed their fists into the chest plates, straightening where they stood, their jokes and familiarity as blown away as they turned into the warriors they were bred to be. Their voices hard and without hesitation, force he loved them...

"Sir yes sir!"


	8. Chapter 8

Lip grunted as he pushed himself off the ground, bouncing where he stood he shook his arms, removing the tension in them and feeling the sweat covering him cooling against the evening air. To his right Fourth was already done, eyes distant as he strapped on the armour to his left arm, hand flexing as he tested the vibro blade hidden within his knuckle plate.

To his left Wrench was still already continuing his push ups, gasping for breath through clenched teeth while balancing his armour in a backpack, the straps cutting into his bare shoulders. Further off Cutter sat on a crate, checking the sniper attachment on his DC with far more care than any commando Lip had _ever_ seen, as he always did the evening before a mission.

Putting his hands on his back Lip stepped away, cracking an already old spine that had spent far too much time bent over a gun to be straight anymore. It felt good to finish the final warm up early, it gave him a moment to relax, to think.

Cutter usually said that it wasn't good to think about the mission too much until the very last minute. But Lip had never managed to keep his thoughts away from them, and this one...he shook his head, dread creeping up on him again.

Shaking his head he tried to find something to distract him with. Over on the other end of the camp he saw a worn down regiment of clone troopers saluting a dozen fallen comrades in body bags...that didn't work. By the headquarters a couple of crippled clone troopers sat playing dice...didn't help either. In the distant he heard droid artillery pounding a republic bunker line, as it had for most of the day.

Nothing helped.

And why would it? He had memorized the briefing by now, having stared at the summary long after the official briefing was over, as had they all. Sure they knew how to improvise, sure they had undertaken seemingly hopeless situations before....but never had so much been left to chance! And without any opportunity for a backup plan...it was madness!

Muttering he shoved his hands into his pockets and stepped away from the others, silently enjoying the small wind reaching him. It was always risky walking without a shirt in this place, some of the bugs laid eggs under your skin, others burrowed themselves into your bloodstream...but he couldn't bring himself to put his shirt back, it wasn't like he would need to worry about that much longer...

"Dammit!" Lip kicked at the dirt, angry with himself, fatalistic thoughts would do him no good.

Though that would probably not make any difference...damn! Kicking himself for his stupidity Lip glared down at the ground and continued his little walk, his trigger finger itching within his pocket as he considered feigning some disease. Of course he couldn't more then consider it, he couldn't leave his brothers on their own even if he _could_ fool Fourth...

It didn't feel right, he couldn't help but wonder if the others were right, that jedi were truly suicidal. He had always figured such talk was born out of bitterness and weariness with the war...but now it was hard to tell.

It...didn't sit well with his programming. While not specifically loyal with the jedi they _were_ the foremost representatives of them out here on the battlefield...only chancellor Palpatine held a higher personal loyalty ingrained in Lip. To dislike their decisions left a sour taste in his mouth...he couldn't even imagine how it would feel for the others.

That thought got a snort out of him, no wonder they were grouchy at times...

Then he heard it, a soft whisper, so different from the hustle and shouted orders in the distance. "Breathe..." Looking around in confusion he found himself finding the two jedi in a most peculiar position.

Somehow the pair had found the only patch of greenery left in the entire camp, a small dot of green under a large light post. The rugged grass was flattened under the pair of jedi, both sitting cross-legged atop it, looking so serene that Lip had to look a second time to realise they were actually people and not a pair of statues.

The twi'lek was the one speaking, his eyes closed, he didn't even look as if he was speaking. Then the mouth opened to speak once more: "Sense yourself...every fibre of it...feel your pulse."

"Yes master." Came the curt reply, the woman next to the twi'lek had her eyes closed as well, forehead creased in a frown, and he could clearly see that _she_ was breathing...a little faster than one would expect of a resting person. "And now...master?"

"Feel your heart...your mind...." Boc Fac took a deep breath, his closed eye twitching for but a moment.

Lip blinked, feeling an odd sensation run through him. As if...something ran through him, like a wind that he couldn't _really_ feel. It was warm, calming...though he should have felt crept out by it...he couldn't bring himself to even worry.

"Done...master." There was a slight gasp in the woman's voice, as if she was exerting herself. _Eh_? Lip was sure he didn't get half of what was going on...yet he continued looking, fascinated.

"Now...the force...the texture of your very being..." The master muttered the words, looking so calm. The force...Lip still didn't understand what that really meant, it was something the jedi and 'normals' spoke of, something resembling a religion. Yet...meh...Lip didn't understand society, part of why he avoided it and stayed in the barracks...though that was _extremely_ easy on posting like these.

"Y...yes master." Lip watched, fascinated by the bead of sweat suddenly running down Weela's forehead while she begun to pant. "I...I feel it."

"Focus on its edges, on the ends...and push inwards, draw it within yourself." Boc Fac smiled widely, for no apparent reason. "Good! Tighten your hold, focus....lock it fast...excellent!" Lip frowned, what were they talking about!? Weird jedi...it was as if they saw something he didn't, kind of annoying come to think of it...

"Y...es master." Weela gasped, her serene look fading as she wavered in her seat, hand straying to the side, ready to catch herself. It wasn't needed however.

Grinning widely the master of the two chuckled. "Oh do not worry try it a couple of times and it will lock fast on instinct, _and_ it will soon become easier. Good work."

The other jedi smiled, her eyes fluttering up as her shoulders visibly dropped. "Thank you master. Will it become less tiring?"

"Yes, otherwise it wouldn't be very useful for you." Boc Fac shrugged, smiling. "Now remember to attempt it a couple of times before night-time, otherwise the journey will be too much for you."

Weela inclined her head. "Yes master, of course...will the stealth be enough to fool Dooku?"

"I believe so." Boc Fac's smile faded, face sombre. "Either way, I believe the risk is worth it. With Dooku captured we can end the war in one fell swoop...anything is worth it."

Lip flinched, the dread once more creeping up on him as he saw Weela look at her master, an odd look on her face. "Master...?"

"Anything." He said with an air of finality.

"Yes master." Weela bowed her head, though she didn't look happy.

Lip, suddenly thirsty, decided to leave for the barrack.


	9. Chapter 9

"Oh by the...how can _any_ place smell this bad!?"

Weela's nose was stuck in a permanent wrinkle as she carefully made her way down a fallen tree trunk. To her left and right...and just about everywhere...there was the green sludge that apparently was supposed to be the only source of water around... That the animals around didn't get killed drinking it was a small miracle in itself.

Then again the animals were probably as disgusting as the swamp.

The commandos had, willingly, dipped themselves in the sludge, their armour now 'painted' green. Weela grimaced at them, half submerged in the green water the troopers had stayed silent for the journey so far, weapons trained against...nothing at all really. Talking to them had been useless so far as well...they didn't reply if they didn't have to, always looking over at the silent jungle around them.

Boc Fac chuckled as he stood at the end of the tree, holding his hand out to catch her as she approached. So far the two had managed to stay relatively clean, though the clone trooper boots the pair wore were now as green as the commandos. "You have clearly not met a hutt yet my padawan."

"If they smell as bad as this place I only have to assume that they're dying..." Weela gagged, desperately trying to think of something _but_ the smell that refused to leave her alone for the last five hours. The only thing coming to mind was the weariness of holding up the concealment of theirs...which didn't help much. "I can't believe I'm already tired."

"It's the concentration, upholding our cover is draining." Boc caught her hand and pulled her off the tree trunk and unto relatively steady ground, ahead of them the commandos silently slid out of the water, weapons trained ahead. Wait...why did she only see three of them? "I feel it too, but do not worry, it will be easier after tonight."

Weela shook her head, letting her master guide her onwards after the commandos. How did they even know where to go? Everything looked the _same_! Perhaps they had some sort of compass in that helmets of theirs? "If you say so master...and we're stopping for the night?" She couldn't stop herself to have a tone of hopefulness in her voice, sleep would be nice...

Boc laughed. "Oh not for quite some time, we must make our way past the first separatist lines before we can rest." He noticed Weela's glum look and laughed even more. "Don't sulk padawan! Some exercise would be good for you!"

Not bothering to point out that she was as fit as any jedi Weela merely muttered something under her breath...and made sure she didn't walk on that small mushroom to her right. Last time she had done that she had barely avoided the resulting explosion of slime...

"Please keep it down." Looking over she found one of the clones look at them, it was hard to tell who due to their armour...but it sounded like Wrench. "We are closing unto separatist lines, and this place is known for their many sentries."

"My apologies." Boc bowed even as the pair marched on, their feet sinking into the soggy ground with each step, making the walk straining even without the effort of maintaining their concealment...Weela realised she had begun to pant, as had her master.

An instant later one of the clones dropped to his knee and raised a clenched fist, making them all duck on instinct, ready for anything. Curious Weela watched the clone tilt his head, listening to something, despite the place being eerily silent...a few seconds passed before the trooper got to his feet and spoke up, it was Fourth, _of_ _course_: "Cutter has successfully knocked out two droid sentries ahead, we move silently by now." He looked back at the two jedi. "Am I understood?"

Weela forced herself to smile as she nodded. "Of course, we'll do as you say."

"Excellent padawan, diplomatic." Boc applauded her quietly while smiling at her.

"I said silence." Fourth snapped, apparently having heard the small piece of praise, Weela shot him an irritated look. "Follow." Oh, so _he_ got to speak?

Following the three troopers Weela found herself hurrying to keep up. Having to walk on firm land while they simply waded through water reaching up to their shoulders was part of it, but mostly it was due to the commandos having increased the pace. For some reason she found it very worrying.

Then she saw something ahead, something white...

Moments later they stood among the remains of dead clone troopers. Weela cringed back, though she was used to dead people by now...she never really liked it, especially not when they looked like _this_.

Half submerged in the ground two dozen clone troopers lay dead, their armour stained by rust and plants that had begun to grow on them. One trooper's helmet had been torn off by a small shrub, the thick vines digging right through a gaping wound in his cheek...another had something growing out of the wound in his chest...Weela looked away, swaying slightly where she stood.

"Snipers sir, lots of them." The voice belonged to Cutter, the clone commando appearing right out of the water, sludge pouring off him. The 'camouflage' of his had been scorched in the chest, probably from a blaster shot, but he didn't look bothered by it...and it was already beginning to disappear under the new coat of sludge... "I got two but I believe others are still hiding in the area."

"Dormant?" Fourth asked, head turning left and right as he crouched down by one of the downed troopers, his hand came down to the head of one of them, grabbing a hold of something at the back of the dead man's helmet. A yank and he freed a rust covered little badge and held it aloft before him. "My tracker shows nothing."

The other clone nodded, moving to yank another badge from one one of the dead clones. "Yes sir, I am unsure of the activation zone...recommend moving around."

"No, it will take too long." Was is just Weela or did the other commandos cringe at that? "Get their badges and then we'll move out."

Watching three commandos start gather more of those little badges while the Fourth kept watch Weela couldn't help but ask: "What are you doing? Is that their identifications?" She glanced over at her grimacing master. "Shouldn't we bury them?"

"No time I'm afraid." Boc admitted, looking away.

Weela grimaced, looking over at the commandos looting the dead. It didn't seem right just to leave the dead here, to be eaten by animals and plants, as if their sacrifice meant nothing...

Fourth snorted. "There's _never_ enough time." With a grunt he pried the tag off another helmet that had been partly covered in stringy lichen. "Besides, it's just a waste, they knew what to expect when dying."

"You're a very cold man." Weela muttered, pulling her robes closer to her, why were they escorted by _these_ clones again? They were scary... "Why even bother to get their tags then?"

The commando snorted. "It's my job, and confirmed deaths is good, they help us getting more reinforcement."

Cold...

"Heh, not like we have any widows wanting closure." Lip spoke up with a chuckle even as he practically tore the head of one his fallen comrades in an effort to get the man's badge. They couldn't have been dead for long, yet they were already half rotten...Weela swallowed.

Boc was apparently equally bothered by the situation, bereft of his usual smile he pulled his robe tighter around himself. "Perhaps we should proceed...?"

"Yes sir." Fourth pulled the last tag free, the neck of the dead trooper snapping under his boot. "Moving on..."


	10. Chapter 10

Weela felt weak.

Sure Boc had been right about their concealment, after the night in that cave it had been far easier to maintain it. Yet...she hadn't really gotten used to the feel of lacking in the force, sure it was there, a mere whisper...but she couldn't really use it when it was like that. Without it she felt clumsy and sluggish...and according to the mutters from Fourth...she was.

It didn't feel right being so weak.

At least her master seemed to take it evenly, crouched down next to her behind the protection offered by a fallen tree he seemed awfully content, though he was quieter then normal. And even _he_ hadn't been able to avoid sweating like a wookie on tatooine in the sweltering heat and ground so uneven it would have fitted an obstacle course.

Weela managed a weak smile. The clone commando's had actually seemed a little frustrated with them, the pair unable to match their pace with their effort in suppressing their powers and the surprisingly tough work in simply getting from point A to point B. It reminded her of all the civilians she had fought to save during the war, only this time she was apparently the civilian, too weak to defend herself.

How many times had they been protected by the commandos from sudden droid assaults? Four? Five? By what little radio chatter she had overheard from the troopers she was sure there was more times...apparently they had destroyed dozens of droids while out of view. Normally she would have sensed the fighting...now she was more or less blind though, stuck to the crude sensory organs in her skull.

Ugh, even now, right outside the separatist base, she couldn't really do anything. She could only watch the few droid sentries around the small entrance while the commandos prepared to enter...wherever _they_ were by now she couldn't tell. She felt so damn useless...she had almost broken the concealment just to make sure she could still be powerful.

The base was far up on a orange mountain whose cliff sides seemed surprisingly sheer, as if someone had cut it down along the sides to make any would-be climbers think twice. At the top the two rectangular monsters of the separatist hangars stood in dark contrast to the bright stone it lay upon. Those were of little interest though, the bombers and fighters leaving the hangar too far up to notice the ants hiding below them.

No, the interesting part was at the base of the mountain. The door stuck in a depression of the cliff was surprisingly small, a ring of a solid steel railing surrounding it like a small dugout...except on the right side where a few steel steps went down to the ground. The forest had been cleared two dozen feet around the entrance, six droids, two of them super battle droids, patrolled the edge while two B1's stood by the door, hands resting on the railing.

Could droids look bored?

"Where did the commandos go?" Weela asked, putting words to her current source of irritation. Maintaining the concealment was bad enough, doing it while sweaty to the bones and weary like nothing before another...force she wanted a shower! "I'm tired of sitting here! There's only eight of them..."

"I assume they want to do it quietly..." Boc whispered back, gaze not drifting from the clearing ahead of them. "And remember that they're commandos...they can't simply leap in and begin cutting droids apart."

Then Weela saw movement. Raising an eyebrow she spotted one of the commando's...Cutter she believed since she'd gotten used to reading their body language to identify them...deftly climb along the cliff. Only ten feet up the man had somehow managed to find enough footing to silently slide along the cliff, hugging it in an almost obscene fashion.

Despite the obviously straining manoeuvre the commando made no sound as he slowly slid to get above the clearing. No droid thought to look up, no surprise there, they were always set in their programming...if nothing out of the ordinary happened they were very predictable.

Next to her Boc Fac suddenly chuckled, glancing over Weela found him looking at her, a smile on his face. "You're leaning forward...worried?"

"Of course I'm worried." She muttered, annoyed that she was so easy to read even without her master using the force. She was worried that they would all die, that the commando's would fail, that the mission would fail...how _couldn't_ one worry!?

Finally Cutter was above the door, swinging over he came to hang by one hand, his back against the cliff. A slight clatter followed as a rock fell from beneath his foot, hitting one of the droids by the door in the head._ Oh no_...

The nasal droid voice cut through the silence of the clearing. "Ow! What the-" The pair looked up in time to see Cutter drop a grenade between them.

A second later the blue explosion of an EMP grenade going off swallowed them both, making the pair tense in an odd Rigor Mortis as every join within them pushed out...before they with a pair of loud thuds fell to the floor, one of them exploding when the head bounced against the steel railing.

The other droids around the little clearing turned and raised their weapons...just in time to see the surprisingly nimble clone drop from his perch and disappear behind the steel railing. The droids begun to advance....then the clearing exploded in activity as the other clones appeared.

Fourth rolled out from the ground, a small blade in his right fist digging into the inside of the knee of one of the super battle droids and sending it tumbling back over him. Sitting up the squad leader pushed a mechanical leg aside and levelled his left-handed pistol at one of the B1's, blowing its head off with one shot...then rolled over the prone super battle droid and slammed his knife into its face.

Wrench came swinging in from a vine, sweeping boot knocking the head off a B1. Landing in a spin the commando dropped unto one knee and poured a stream of blue laser bolts towards another B1, first tearing off both its arms before finally blowing a hole through its chest.

With a crash the other super battle droid fell forward, Lip landing atop it, his heavy looking blaster jammed into the small of its back as he emptied an entire clip into it....finally severing it in two and starting a fire somewhere within it, grey smoke rising from it.

The last B1 fired a single shot, knocking the commando off the burning droid...then Cutter appeared from his cover, a powerful bolt from his sniper weapon tearing through the chest of the droid and sending machine parts hurling over the ground....the machine tumbled to the ground.

All of it hadn't taken more then a few moments.

Then Boc's hand was on her shoulder, stopping Weela from rushing up as sudden worry gripped her.

"Clear!"

"Clear!"

"Ow...clear!" Lip stumbled to his feet, to her surprise drawing a sigh of relief from Weela.

"Clear..." Fourth rolled to his feet and looked over to the two hiding jedi. "You may approach _sir_."

Releasing his grip on her Weela's master took point, heading straight for the door even as Weela followed, gaze drawn to Lip. The commando stood in the usual commando pose, though he was shrugging a little, as if trying to remove a stiffness out of his shoulders. Wrench was the one who put words to her worry though: "Are you okay Lip?"

"Oh fine, shield still intact, the hit just jarred me a little..." Lip snorted, obviously not bothered by the scorch mark over the left side of his chest...a hit that should have killed any unshielded person.

Why didn't they put shields on all the clones? Probably expensive...Weela didn't like the way such thoughts took her. "Are you sure? Looked like a pretty mean hit to me."

A chuckle escaped Lip and Wrench, she could swear the pair was grinning at her from behind their helmets. The damaged clone nodded, amusement in his voice. "Oh yes, a few hits happens every mission...I'm just glad we haven't had to do any reviving yet, a small wonder on its own."

"Oh...that happens...a lot?" Weela felt a little shy at the question. Reviving...like in almost dead....often?

"It comes with the territory." Lip shrugged, apparently not overly bothered by the whole thing. "Not something we th-"

"Lip!" The roar made the commando and jedi both snap in sudden fear, heads snapping round to look over at Fourth. The squad leader was pulling one of the downed droids towards the jungle by the neck as he gestured towards the door with his free hand. "Get slicing on that door or it'll be your hide! _Now_!"

"Yes sir!" Lip shouted, not bothering to salute he instead hurled himself towards the door, jumping over the droid Cutter was dragging away in his hurry to oblige. "Slicing door now sir...I need thirty seconds."

"Good enough." Tossing the last droid into the undergrowth of the jungle Fourth turned to Boc Fac, the jedi absently looking up at the distant hangar above them. "Prepare yourself _jedi_, stay close and stay out of our way...or this will be a very short mission..."

The jedi smiled, not looking away from the mountaintop. "No need to worry commando, no need at all..."


	11. Chapter 11

Lip padded forward, DC raised to fire the moment any droid appeared.

So far there had been none but a single sentry though, the thing having had its head torn off by Cutter as the recon trooper moved ahead of the main force. Behind him the others followed, Wrench's slightly plodding movement, Fourth's deathly silence...and the two jedi that almost seemed...hesitant.

So far it was going great, the droids at the entrance had been torn apart without much problem, there weren't much in the way of enemy sensors according to the scouting Cutter...and despite Fourth's doubts the jedi seemed content to keep quiet as they ghosted on.

So all in all they were just royally screwed.

Lip grinned.

The corridor they were moving in was a mixture of brown stone of the hollowed mountain and dark grey steel the separatists seemed to favour on this planet. It was wider then the door had made him believe, almost a dozen steps wide and sporting a few crates of various shapes that Lip if he remembered correctly were used for repairs and recharging of the droids.

It was also a bit high in the way of ceiling, making Lip feel as if they were exploring the cave of some great monster. Though large enough to fit an advanced dwarf spider droid he doubted they would encounter one. Not that a small army of B2's was a better option...

"Master..." The word was but a whisper, but enough to make Lip glance back to see Weela stumble, a hand coming up to her chest. "...I...I think I can feel _him_, he's here master."

"What did I tell you about talking?" Fourth grumbled, not even bothering to look back at the two troubled-looking jedi.

Ignoring the commando the twi'lek placed a hand on Weela's shoulder, steadying her. "Turn away from it padawan, quench your being...he must not know of us yet."

"Yes master." Weela nodded, lips pressed tightly together as she visibly paled under a strain Lip couldn't understand.

"Is this going to affect the mission?" He dared asking while pointing at the now wobbling Weela, knowing Fourth would be interested in such a subject enough to tolerate talking outside the radio. "She looks horrible."

Weela managed a surprisingly childish pout, sticking her tongue out at a surprised Lip. "Thank you for the kind words."

"There will be no difficulty." Boc Fac added, throwing his padawan a stern look that she didn't seem to register.

Despite the helmet Lip could tell Fourth was scowling even as he continued his cautious advance. "If you say so..._sir_..."

Before things could turn into another game of insult-the-jedi Cutter's voice cut through the static that the separatists transmissions were eliciting. "Cutter reporting, located elevator, need immediate reinforcement to continue advance."

As one the three commandos moved into a jog, drawing a sigh from Weela as she and her master found themselves hurrying after them.

Cutter asking for reinforcement...that always meant the need to hurry. Fourth seemed to think the same thing as he growled through his com-link: "Cutter, send me your visual, I want the situation." A few moments passed as the group hurried on, then Fourth growled on: "Right, Lip I want you to hit the console right away. Wrench, the left side corridor must be mined. Cutter and I will keep the right under control."

"Roger that."

"Confirmed."

"Affirmative."

Already putting his weapon over behind his back Lip saw the corridor split left and right, judging by the large door at the end there was an elevator there...a quick scan quickly located the console to it on the right side of the door. Using what little cover offered by the console Cutter was crouched low, dodging back and forth from it as he fired of quick bursts at something hidden on the right.

Jogging forward Lip saw Wrench turn tightly to the left as they reached the T-crossing, hands already reaching over to grab a hold of his supply of explosives. The crates of energy storage would make a might fine boom...and since the corridor was empty Wrench would be able to work undisturbed. Over on the right though...

Lip saw at least seven B1s using crates and alcoves of the corridor as cover, even as he watched one had its head torn off by Fourth as the squad leader took position in the corner of the corridor. "Thermal!" Barely had the words left the commando's lips as the spherical explosive flew towards the droids, the explosion tearing aside two crates and the three droids using them as cover.

Forcing himself to look away from the combat Lip went up to the console, quickly bringing it online as he with practised eyes identified the programming and firewalls. "Give me twenty!" He snapped, annoyed by Cutter dodging and weaving right next to him. And here he was standing still like some living target...

"What will-"

"Just stay out of the way!" Fourth growled, silencing the jedi. Glancing over Lip saw Weela frown even as she and Boc stepped closer to the elevator, pushing their backs against the doors so as to minimize their exposure to the enemy fire. It was strange seeing a jedi duck...muttering a curse Lip focused back on the task at hand and forced his way past the first firewall.

"We got supers!" Flinching Lip felt the sting of a heavy blaster shot hitting his shoulder. Ignoring the sudden pain he continued, pushing past the second firewall with a little more difficulty than expected as the fingers in his right hand stiffened.

"Firewalls down! Ordering elevator...it's descending now." Lip muttered, relief coursing through him as he went unto one knee and pulled out his blaster. Ahead of him there was two B2s leading a dozen B1s in a bold advance against them, their fire raking the commandos position.

"Good, you and Wrench on anti armour, I want those supers gone." Fourth muttered, his shots bouncing off solid black armour of a super even as it sent two heavy blasts against him, one burning a hole in his cover while the other sent him stumbling back when it hit him in the chest.

"Glad to oblige sir!" Wrench rumbled, him and Lip both switching over to their explosive attachments with movements that mirrored one another to the moment. A second later Lip could take aim as Wrench muttered. "I take the _right_ one." Lip just grinned, Wrench _always_ wanted the right one...

With the press of a trigger Lip felt the familiar push of the weapon as it launched its explosive forth. Both B2s blew into pieces, the two closest B1s collapsing as well as scything droid-parts tore them apart. Then Cutter and Fourth opened up with new vigour, a torrent of blaster fire scything through the now exposed B1s.

Turning his weapon over to the standard Lip groaned inwardly as Wrench called out: "Droids incoming on our rear!"

"Let the explosives take care of them." Fourth muttered, nodding towards the rightward corridor. "Focus fire on the new arrivals."

"Oh man! They don't quit do they!?" Lip whined, watching with irritation as a new wave of droids approached, fortunately it was just a flood of B1s..._flood_. "Man that's a lot of them!"

"Thick crossfire, grenades ready for enemy charges." Fourth muttered as Cutter fell over, riddled with blaster fire. "Cover Cutter Lip!"

Instantly obeying Lip went down to cover Cutter with his body while his companion's shields recharged. He hated that order...Lip grimaced as the flurry of shots coming Cutter's way hit him instead, burning through his shields with surprising speed. "Thick crossfire please!"

The flurry of shots put forth knocked a dozen droids over, putting a stop on the enemy charge as the droids threw themselves into cover in an oddly human way. Without need for orders Cutter and Wrench switched to the sniper attachments on their weapons, ready to tear the hiding droids apart. Lip couldn't help but glance back, seeing half a dozen droids being turned to scrap as the crate they passed exploded into fire and scything metal.

He also saw the doors to the elevator beginning to open.

"Retreat into elevator now." Fourth growled, how he could see that without actually look back Lip had never been able to figure out...he obeyed though, quickly moving into the spacious elevator. He didn't even want to _think_ what would have happened if it had carried enemy troops...

Turning he found the doors already closing. The assembled jedi and clones breathing a sigh of relief. "Well that was easy..."

Fourth shrugged, already checking his blaster. "But now they know we're here. Men, count your weapons..."


	12. Chapter 12

With a hiss the door to the elevator opened.

Moving forward Lip fired a burst of shots into the B1 to his left, blowing it apart even as the droid to the right was blown apart by a few shots from the advancing Wrench.

The corridor was wide and mostly empty, the alcoves in it could hid dozens of foes and other surprises though...Lip muttered a curse. Three dozen paces forward the corridor split into two corridors, the door in the crossing was the point of interest though, Lip had memorized the map of the place...the meditation chamber. "Sir...I'm getting a lot of chatter from that console I hacked earlier." Lip spoke even as the troopers with their jedi 'cargo' advanced. "We have security teams converging on our position."

"No surprise there, time to abandon stealth." Fourth replied, a hint of a grin at the end. "Advance full!"

Breaking into the fastest pace a guarded advance allowed Lip felt his pulse quicken with each step. He ignored the pair of B1s appearing from the alcoves on his sides, the pair instantly being torn apart by Fourth's and Cutter's fire as the second pair of commandos kept Lip and Wrench clear. "The elevator is going down..."

Glancing back Lip saw that Cutter indeed was correct, behind the following jedi the door had already closed, and there was a slight hum as the machinery within it worked. "No doubt getting reinforcement...things are getting hot sir."

"Right, Wrench I want you to blow that door." Fourth ordered, the words almost disappearing under the sound of Lip putting down two droids appearing around the left corner, both machines exploding into scraps. "Lip on left, Cutter on right, I'll guard our back." He turned a quick glance to the two jedi. "Jedi, you do not desire our aid fighting the sith?"

"That would not be helpful really se-"

"Very well." Fourth cut in, interrupting the master's words as he turned back to their advance. "Wrench, once door is blown you act as mobile reserve."

"Affirmative." The other three clones muttered, a sudden dread enveloping them, growing stronger with each step. And that despite the feeble resistance...Lip watched impassively as more of the spread out droid sentries rushed to their destruction.

"Master..." Weela muttered, the woman pale.

"I know, I feel it also, there will be no further need for the stealth." Boc Fac replied, instantly both he and his padawan looked more relaxed, though Weela still kept her lips tightly together, no doubt nervous. Nervous jedi...Lip didn't like that for some reason.

Were they sensing the sith? How? On the other hand Lip could also feel something...but he was pretty sure the dread came from experience telling him they were walking into a trap. He blew another sentry apart before moving to reload his blaster, licking his lips under his helmet. "I have a bad feeling about this..."

"Shut your mouth soldier!" Fourth growled, the four commandos fanning out as they took up their position in the crossing, rifles put at the ready. Absently Lip blew the head off a approaching droid, his head turning despite his orders, turning to see Wrench putting a heavy explosive unto the door, muttering something in the radio as he worked. "I want that door open Wrench!"

"Yes sir, door opening..." Wrench replied, the explosive set he moved to tear off a plate from the door and turn his wrenching hands to the cables within. "There, that should do it." He stepped away, turned his face away...and blew the door.

With a flash the door opened.

The room on the other side was unadorned, round, small, and had a single piece of furniture in it. A small cushion where their target sat, his legs crossed and eyes closed. "Ah, finally, you arrive." The calm in the voice was unnerving to say the least. The man was dressed in a set of black pants and a tunic as well as a short brown cloak. He looked so old...the paling grey hair and beard together with the wrinkly face spoke of no danger.

Yet...Lip suppressed the urge to turn his weapon against the man.

Opening his eyes the count looked over at the two jedi, ignoring the commandos completely. "I had expected you to get here sooner, slow jedi, tsk, tsk..."

"Count Dooku." Boc Fac smiled. "You are hereby under arrest by the authority of the republic and the jedi order." He ignited his lightsaber, the green rod of light humming in the sudden silence left by his words.

The count smirked, _still_ not getting up...Lip shivered all of a sudden. "_Again_? How many times must I hear these pathetic words?" He looked over at the two jedi, eyes twinkling with amusement. "And just who are you? I do not recognise either of you. You know my name...I don't know yours, does that not tell you something about your chances?"

Suddenly Weela had her saber in her hands, the yellow blade added to that of her master's. "Master, lets get this over with, he won't come quietly."

"How very un-jedi." Dooku chuckled. "I like it." He uncrossed his legs and slowly got to his feet, his movement anything but agile or laced with danger, making Lip wonder why everyone feared him so much. Still, the small smile on his lips was predatory, as if he was toying with a prey instead of being cornered by the galaxy's best. "But come now, I've defeated Skywalker and Kenobi, only Yoda has so far eluded my swordsmanship...and you two unknowns think yourself to capture _me_?"

"Come now count, you cannot make us fear you with such trite observations." Boc Fac replied, though the look on Weela's face said otherwise.

Fourth growled under his breath through their radio as the commando maintained his position next to Lip. "What's with all the talking? Fight dammit."

"Enemy reinforcement is still closing on our position, every minute lost increases the danger." Cutter calmly pointed out, body still.

Fourth nodded. "Agreed." With a crackle he switched to normal speech. "Jedi, _please_ get this under way so we may leave."

"Yes, _please_." Dooku imitated, amused. "Heed your warrior. Lets get this over with...I shall enjoy killing them _and_ you."

"You're a confident one aren't you?" Boc Fac chuckled, raising his weapon. "The republic will judge you harshly."

"The republic is a stagnate beast!" Dooku hissed back, his dark red saber ignited and in his hand, held out to his side in a confident guard. "_As_ are the jedi." He raised the weapon in front of his face, saluting the opposition. "Now...defend yourself!"

With surprising speed he leapt forward.


	13. Chapter 13

She was fighting a sith...a _sith_!

The thought hadn't really struck Weela until now, hadn't really sunk in properly. But the more she moved her arms in the well practised moves to cut and parry the more it was intruding upon her mind, making her sluggish...terrifying her.

_No_! She was a jedi damn it! Gritting her teeth Weela forced herself to calm down, to centre herself into the battle.

She was only half successful.

Part of the reason was the growing realisation that they were in over their heads. Between her Soresu and the Ataru fighting style of her master they should have cornered and either disarmed or destroyed their foe. But Dooku's Makashi was perfect, leaving no gap in his defence even as the Sith pushed them both back.

He was even smirking, _smirking_ as he fought them!

With a twirl the sith made a deceptively small slash at her, almost cutting through her defences for a horrifying moment...then she shifted her stance and bashed the small cut aside, the heat of it passing her face by a mere inch.

They were now close to the exit of the meditation chamber once more, Dooku forcing them both back so Boc Fac couldn't fight as freely as he wanted, leaving Weela to do most of the legwork. With a sweeping backhand blow Dooku almost severed Boc's lightsaber, instead he knocked it towards Weela, locking all three blades against one another. "Is this all the mighty jedi could muster?" Dooku smiled as he casually batted aside Weela's counter attack. "Surely this was not the smartest thing you have concocted?"

Gritting her teeth Weela forced herself not to reply as she pushed herself to the brink, her body aching with each blow by now.

Things weren't made better by the fact that the sound of blaster fire was getting more and more intense, as was the shouted orders from the commandos as they continued to tear apart the arriving droid reinforcement. Judging by the sounds and her senses things were getting a little difficult...

Cutter was the centre of calm, his mind moving through calm observations and analyses, as if he was merely on a firing range. Fourth was a bubbling vessel of anger, anger he struggled to let out by destroying his foes. Wrench was counting up a string of curses...and Lip seemed to struggle in containing the panic by joking with himself, badly.

"Focus my padawan, we can still defeat him." Boc muttered, darting forward to deliver a storm of heavy blows, all of which Dooku all too easily parried.

"_Defeat_ me?" The count chuckled, his saber forming a figure eight in front of him as he inched back, ready to stop any attack. "Surely you realise that will _not_ happen?"

Weela lashed out, only to find her saber almost getting torn out of her hand when Dooku lashed back, cruel smile never leaving his lips. "Master!?" She could hear the panic in her own voice, panic only growing when she saw Boc's saber getting pushed aside when the twi'lek came to her help.

"Damn..." Boc's voice was but a whisper. "Fourth! I need an exit!"

"How would I do that!?" Fourth barked back, if he was going to say anything more it was stopped by an explosion, followed by a shout. "Lip! Keep that one pinned!" There was another set of explosions. "Now you capture that sith or we'll all die _sir_!"

Weela's eyes widened, had the soldier just refused an order!? Taking a quick step back she let Boc handle Dooku for a moment while she looked back at the commandos.

From her position she could easily see the distant elevator, the door open and almost two dozen droids of different types leaving it even as the doors begun to close, no doubt so the elevator could get more troops up towards them. Keeping cover Fourth and Wrench fired off burst after burst against the opposition, only to be forced back by scything blaster fire and rockets.

More fire came past the crossing from the left and right, the two commandos guarding those sides apparently struggling with an ever growing force of enemies.

"Cutter!" The stab of pain was distant, the cry through the force of a life ending an odd contrast to the emotionless destruction of the droids. "Cutter's down! Wrench on his position! Revive if possible!"

The other commando obeyed, rushing across the open space of the corridor to head for his brother...then fell as a rocket took him in the hip.

Skidding across the floor the clone dropped his blaster, he still moved though, hand reaching out for the weapon even as he crawled forward. "Shield's out, I need-" A blaster round took him in the face, drilling a neat hole of scorched plasteel in the centre of the helmet.

Wrench's head dropped without a sound.

"Wrench!" Lip's cry was short as the clone came stumbling into sight, his armour scorched black by repeated blaster fire, his hand reaching out for his now dead brother...then he fell unto his knees, body twitching.

Fourth moved...then Weela was forced to focus back on Dooku as the Sith sent Boc sprawling with another deceptive slash that turned into stab towards Weela, singing the sleeve of her robe before she pushed the attack aside.

With Boc still struggling to get up from being tossed into the wall Weela found her guard failing under the concentrated assault of her foe, the count's smile widening ever so slightly as she on instinct went away from Soresu and switched to Shii-Cho. Such a basic type would never stand against Dooku...but Weela couldn't help herself.

Crying out she felt her left arm burn when a thrust cut through cloth and skin. Stumbling back she raised her saber in a tight guard, struggling to put her mind back into the one of the Soresu. Instead she found herself cry out in pain once more as a quick slash cut across her right knee, burning partly through it.

Blinking through sudden tears Weela crouched into a lower guard, hoping to make herself small until Boc could come to the rescue. She didn't want to die...

Dooku's thrust came at her face, locking blades she pushed it to the left...only to find her weapon pulled around as the count easily twirled his blade around...and then pushed her lightsaber out of her hands.

Gasping Weela jumped back, her stomach afire with the pain from a grazing blow. Dropping unto her knees she could only watch as Dooku turned around in time to parry Boc's charge, crossed ligthsabers inches from the two's faces.

Then Dooku lashed back, pushing the twi'lek back his saber made a dizzying pattern in the air. With her injuries Weela found her vision clouded, the two combatants seemed awfully blurry...but there was no hiding Boc's pain as her master was hit. No way she could miss how his right arm came off at the shoulder...or the way his hip was pierced by a glowing blade...and which then drew up, drawing a massive wound up over Boc's body.

Cut in two along his length the twi'lek fell apart, eyes still wide in shock.

And all went dark.

----

"Come now, wake up." The gentle slap was enough for Weela to open her eyes, the blurry shape of count Dooku mere inches from her face. Groggily looking around she realised they were still in the meditation chamber, herself hoisted up by two super battle droids holding her arms up in cold pincers of steel.

There Boc lay, his shorn halves partly hidden behind two droids, both holding the limp forms of Cutter and Wrench, the two dead clones missing their helmets. In death they looked almost peaceful, as if they finally had found the calm they had been searching for.

Stepping to the side Dooku revealed the other two clones, unbound but on their knees the two clones kept their hands on their heads as four super battle droids kept their weapons trained upon the commandos. Lip's eyes were vacant, red blood running down his nose. Fourth's gaze was fixed upon the two dead clones, his lips pressed tightly together as he fumed with barely constrained rage.

"Very sad, that with your master, though don't worry, you'll soon join him." Dooku's words sent a chill down her spine even as the count turned to the two clones. "Quite a badly planed operation wouldn't you say?" Fourth snorted, eyes not leaving his dead brothers. "I guess it would have been successful if aimed at anyone but me...then again jedi have always aimed for the stars, not really realistic thinkers are they?"

"What do you want?" Weela croaked, her throat one big bruise for some reason.

"I'm not really talking to you here my dear." Dooku replied without turning. "Such magnificent warriors...I could use men like you two."

Now it was Lip's turn to snort. "Go to hell."

"How quaint." Dooku shrugged. Then one of the clone's pistols hovered through the air, the count smiling at the small weapon as he put it hovering in front of Lip's face. "Now please...take this and shoot the jedi here." The clone shot him a blank look. "Come now, I can _feel_ your anger...kill her and you will live, I'll even give you true freedom."

"I'm a clone, I need nothing." Lip replied, looking away from the offered pistol.

"So they say...now come, I won't make the offer twice." Dooku calmly said, inching the pistol closer to Lip's face. "Kill the one that lead you into this and you will have a place within my retinue."

"Go to-"

The rest of Lip's sentence was cut short by Dooku's saber suddenly lashing out, the count separating Lip's head from his shoulders.

His head fell one way, his body the other.

Weela could do nothing but wince where she hung, he had died for her...she had liked him...and now she had gotten him killed.

"Now as for you..." Dooku held up the pistol to Fourth, but didn't get to finish the sentence as the clone instantly grasped the blaster, aimed, and fired.

Gasping Weela found all air leaving her as the burning pain in her chest paralysed her. He had _shot_ her! Finding her eyes tear with pain she looked back at the clone, only to find unbridled hatred glaring back at her, the clone's lips twisting into a snarl. "Screw the programming." He suddenly smiled, for the first time ever as far as Weela remembered, then he turned to the count and bowed his head. "I'm at your command lord Dooku."

"Excellent, arise, not as a clone...but as a new man."

Weela's eye twitched as Fourth rose to his feet, standing tall, almost proud. Her leg kicked even as he turned to glare at her once more. He spat at her, but she couldn't feel the spittle...nor the impact when the super battle droids tossed her aside.

For she was dead.

_The end_


End file.
